A Bloody Good Snog
by Aeria
Summary: Who’s to say traveling companions can’t snog occasionally? Rose/Ten
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** A Bloody Good Snog  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary:** Who's to say traveling companions can't snog occasionally?  
**Characters:** Ten/Rose  
**Spoilers:** New Earth  
**Disclaimer:** I still don't own them.

**A/N:** First fic in oh-so-long but with David Tennant gracing our screens, I could hardly resist. Especially not with such good material. It isn't anything particularly deep or meaningful, just a bit of a tag to New Earth; fluffy, sweet and playful. Hopefully this hails my return to fic-writing.  
Huge, massive thanks to **saganamidreams** for being my beta and making this oh so much better than it originally was. Also, thank you for the title and the summary because I'm useless at that sort of stuff.

"Well, that was…" she trailed off, hoping he had the word she was looking for.

He glanced up from the console, catching her eye, considering what to say. Then he grinned. "An adventure?"

Rolling her eyes, she crossed to where he was standing and leaned back against the ship's controls, crossing her arms in front of her and looking at him inquisitively. "What about The Face of Boe?" she asked.

A shrug as he expertly threw a lever. "We'll see him soon enough."

Cryptic, but she had a feeling it was because he wasn't entirely sure himself. She changed the topic with a laugh. "I can't believe Cassandra was inside my body."

A chuckle with a tinge of discomfort as he responded, "I can't believe she was in mine."

Glancing at her, he found her chewing on her bottom lip, eyes on the floor and he knew she wanted to say something. He braced for the impact, eyes moving quickly back and forth between her and the controls which, in all honesty, he didn't really need to look at since they'd already landed on an uninhabited planet and he had no plans of leaving until after a good night's rest.

He was so busy plotting their next trip – ancient Egypt, perhaps – that when, several minutes later, she finally spoke it broke through his thoughts and took a second to make sense. "For the record," she said, voice tighter than usual and a higher pitch, "I don't kiss like that."

Oh, and there it was, she just needed to bring that up. Any second now she'd demand they talk about his little stint with Cassandra pulling his strings. The shame of it…not that he wasn't pleased with the revelations that had accompanied the event. But that wasn't the point.

Quick, say something. "Yeah." That had come out sharp and defensive: follow it up. "Well, neither do I." Oh, bollocks, couldn't he have just agreed and let it lie? Offered her a cup of tea or quizzed her on where they should go next?

She snorted, leaning forward and poking him hard in the chest. "You just stood there," she accused. "That's not even classed as kissing." Pulling back, she cast her eyes to the ceiling. "But Cassandra," she shuddered. "That was just bad!"

Pulling a face, he stuck his chin out, looking down at her defiantly. "Well, you can hardly blame me –"

She cut him off, reeling back in horror. "Oh god." She pulled a face and it reminded him distinctly of the time she'd accidentally bitten into an unripe Ashtor fruit. "You've never kissed a girl before."

Now from where had she pulled that conclusion? Had it really been that bad? Gritting his teeth, he did his best to look nonchalant. "Of course I have." He rolled his eyes with a huff then bit his lip, refusing to meet her eyes. "Well, no," he conceded, "not in this particular body." Her eyes widened further. "I haven't had the chance," he added defensively. "But that's got nothing to do with why I didn't kiss you. I'd make a perfectly fine snog…" he trailed off. 

Her hands dropped to play with the hem of her top and she demurred, or so it seemed. Teasing him, she asked the question, knowing full well the answer. "You don't find me attractive?"

Spluttering, his mind raced. He knew all about this, what human females did, trapping men with their words so that absolutely no answer was right. She may as well have asked him if her bum looked big in those pants. His eyes slipped, completely of their own volition, southwards, racing over her body until he wrenched them back up at the last second, mentally kicking himself.

Staring her down like she was a misbehaving teenager, he deflected the question with a melodramatic sigh. "Oh, we are not getting into this now, are we?" Another sigh, this one even heavier and then he smiled tightly, sarcasm etched into the lines of his face. "Yes, Rose, you've very nice," he said, adding a playful grin to take the edge off before he continued.

But she didn't let him, basically ignored his complete lack of seriousness, and asked rather forcefully, "Then why don't you kiss me?"

When had it changed from past to present tense?

She moved closer, hands transferring seamlessly from the hem of her top to the second button of his jacket, pulling lightly at the little piece of plastic but remaining ever so careful not to exert any actual pressure on him. 

He did his best to remain stoic, as much as his complete disinterest in pulling away seemed to indicate otherwise. Swallowing as her fingers flitted to the third button, the second mysteriously left undone, he kept a relatively level head. "You don't think that might have serious repercussions?"

She edged closer and he gasped in what he'd always claim was shock as she rose on her toes, her lips hovering inches from his. His quick intake and slow release of breath were undeniable as the hand at his waist flattened against the thin cotton of his shirt, fingers scratching playfully over him.

Chancing a glance at her eyes, he saw her watching his lips; felt himself rendered illiterate as she licked her own lips, apparently unaware of its effect. She looked up, catching him looking, his mouth slightly agape, and he recovered long enough to remember he'd been talking about consequences.

"Such as?" she asked with a smirk.

At some point his eyes had snapped straight forward and his chin was raised in defiance. He knew, however, she was hovering, just there, could feel her less than an inch away. Stuttering but hoping she'd be too busy staring at his lips to notice, he tried to formulate an argument. "We're supposed to be traveling companions…" It came out more of a question than a statement and didn't appear to sway her from her sudden but resolute decision to kiss him senseless.

"And traveling companions can't snog occasionally?" she returned immediately, breath playing across his neck and he glanced down.

As their eyes locked, reason fled and he edged closer. Only an inch or two to cover but it took time. Enough that she again licked her bottom lip, though he was beginning to doubt the action was accidental. He reveled in the chance, as deluded as he accepted he was being, to suck in a breath of air and to smell and taste the very essence of her.

Then he paused, confusion rushing over his face. "How the hell did we end up here?" It was meant to come out high pitched and loud – enough to shatter the moment - but he found his voice rather depleted.

She just continued to stare, grasping and pulling at his shirt in an effort to bring him closer, but he stood his ground, holding the smallest of spaces between them. "Where?" she asked distractedly, lips tracing invisible patterns above his.

Oh, how he wanted to kiss her. Why she was even considering it was beyond him but then, at this point, the question as to why neither of them had considered this before was also somewhat of a mystery. Why not just kiss her? It wasn't like there was a real reason – was there? The universe wouldn't implode. The TARDIS wouldn't stop working. As far as he knew, she wouldn't pack her bags immediately and leave. She was asking for this. Besides, he was a bloody good snog.

Confused, hazy, he knew she was still watching his lips. With a fleeting touch, so brief it barely registered, he angled her chin up and met her eyes. Clarity immediately quashed the dream-like quality as she realized he was hesitating, realized that she probably should have been hesitating alongside him.

Then she gave him one of those smiles: wide and growing, tongue catching between her teeth as her eyes sparkled. 

"What was the point of this again?" he asked, stalling, seeing the dare in her expression and ignoring it.

"You were telling me how good at snogging you are." At a time like this, she had no right having a voice that level, that teasing, that in control.

"Ah…And you were saying the same thing?" he replied tentatively.

He saw doubt surface in her eyes, but it was quickly covered. "Yes."

"Yes," he echoed faintly, mind darting off somewhere as he considered the situation.

She watched as his bottom lip jutted out and his brow creased. "Right," he said, more to himself than to her. Her hand rose to rest on his side, fingers tapping against his hip, and her other now rested limply against his chest.

Eyebrows rising as he bobbed his head from one side to the other, obviously weighing up the pros and cons of two decisions, he suddenly grinned. "Right, Rose Tyler." He seemed resolute and she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know what was next. Another grin, this one smugger. "You asked for it."

Momentarily confused, she began to formulate a question, would have gladly continued to tease, except he suddenly did what, in hindsight, she probably should have seen coming.

His lips settled on hers, pressing softly, carefully, because he'd expected it to be a bit shocking and, despite her teasing and flirtation, wouldn't have been in the least surprised had she smacked him.

But as soon as she'd recovered from the surprise of it, she realized just how good it felt and both hands impulsively grabbed onto him. One hand gathering the material at his chest and pulling him closer while the other wound into his hair, reveling at the fact this time it was _her_ messing it up, directing him through it, and planning to do a far better job of it. 

And that was all it took for him to simultaneously accept that she was okay with this and to surrender completely. He pressed harder, arms slipping around her waist and pulling her as close as he could, letting his palms move against her back, upwards to her shoulder blades and then down, squeezing her waist before slipping beneath her shirt to touch skin that was smooth and hot, grasping her sides with a possessiveness he hadn't expected but that felt right. 

Lips tearing momentarily from hers, he flashed her a lopsided grin, watching as hers curved upwards, then returned, nipping playfully at her bottom lip before sucking it between his own, letting his tongue run languidly over it. He paused, resting his lips at the corner of her mouth as he leaned closer, nose pressed lightly to her cheek, his forehead against hers, her scent unavoidable.

She was about to say something, on the verge of begging him to continue, when he moved back into action, closing his eyes and slipping down to kiss her throat, wet and hungry as his teeth grazed over skin. Her hands tightened in his hair and he grinned again at the moan that followed. His hair was going to be a mess after this, she was twisting it around her fingers, pulling and tugging, dragging him impossibly closer.

He complied, lips gliding to the hollow of her neck, nuzzling her, his breath steady while she shivered. She wanted him to go lower, was pushing in that direction with a hand at the nape of his neck, and he was so terribly tempted.

But his lips moved upwards, part of him needing to keep this a game of proving his talent, determined not to venture into murkier waters, not to let this get out of hand. So he returned to her mouth, kissed her heart-stoppingly long and deep, his hands moving to frame her face, fingers splaying across her neck while his tongue slipped into her mouth, grazing against hers in one last ditch attempt to make this better than it already was. She shuddered against him, back arching ever so slightly, and he felt her moan at the contact. Oh, he was good at this.

He slowly pulled away, his hands dipping to her waist to hold her in place even as his lips begged to be allowed to touch one more time. He dove back for one last chaste touch before wrenching away, hands dropping to his sides as he leaned against the console, putting even more space between them.

Smiling lazily as he recovered, his eyes caught hers as they returned from thoroughly investigating the havoc he'd so successfully wreaked. He ignored the grin she threw him when she looked up at his hair.

She tried to speak but failed, closed her mouth and swallowed twice in an effort to get both vocal chords and thoughts under control. "Impressive," she managed, amazed she'd managed a word when she'd been expecting something far less coherent, possibly just some kind of whimper.

"I aim to please." He gave her a cheeky grin and a waggle of his eyebrows and she noted the strained huskiness of his voice.

Her voice was distracted when she spoke a moment later. "I'm sure you do." A pause and then that smile appeared again, the one she may or may not have known could turn him to mush. "Anything else you're good at?"

His mouth dropped open, eyes going wide in shock, and his stomach did a back flip as she looked him up and down. Then he returned the grin and ran a hand pointlessly through his hair.

Pushing off the console, he brushed past her, the subtle bumping of their hips conveying a not so subtle message, and she stared as he wandered away, turning to walk down the closest corridor. At the last moment he stopped, rocking on his feet before looking at her over his shoulder, and in an extremely self-satisfied, self-assured tone, said: "S'pose there's only one way to find out really."

**A/N:**Now then, I hope you enjoyed that. Please feel free to leave constructive criticism as I will always consider anyone's comments. Also feel free to just tell me what you liked so I can be happy and I can write more of it. grins


	2. Best Laid Plans

**Rating:** M, very, very M, take note of this and do not proceed if you are under 18 or not a fan of smut.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them and I didn't consciously plan on doing this to them anyway.

**Characters:** Ten/Rose

**A/N:** Firstly, I have to give a huge thank you to **cantralian** and **chicklet73** who both spent far too many hours combing over this rather massive one fic. Without them I doubt it'd be half as good and all their fiddling, honesty and encouragement is just brilliant. So thanks.

**Summary:** Yes, it's a fic about the fact that the Doctor kisses another woman. Written before 'The Girl in the Fireplace'. It's also follows directly from 'A Bloody Good Snog' though that doesn't need to have been read, it's simply the way my brain played it out as being in the same universe.

Probably going to end up the smuttiest thing I've written yet, three parts, all written, will update with part two and three in a couple of days.

Rose was avoiding him.

She'd been avoiding him ever since they'd gotten back and he would rather not contemplate the cause. Because if he was right, that cause was exciting and thrilling and if she actually acknowledged it, things would change. He heard her sigh and bent his head slightly to look at her across the room. Strange that she was so blatantly avoiding him but still hadn't left his side; had stood waiting for him in the console room; had followed him to the kitchen for a late supper and was now here, in the library, avoiding him.

It was possible she was angry at him for a more mundane reason than what he was thinking. Perhaps because he'd lost track of where she was – again – (not that she seemed to mind any of the other times). For not holding her hand when they ran for their lives (admittedly someone's chubby butler had been running in between them, but still, the lack of contact had annoyed him). Or maybe for making her wear that ridiculous dress that he'd rather liked and quite possibly had tricked her into wearing well after the need for the façade had passed.

Another calculating glance, his glasses slipping further down his nose until he was looking over the top of them, and she just stared back. Certainly a strange way of avoiding him: following him around and staring at him. She should have been in bed, sleeping, recovering, getting ready for tomorrow, not sitting here, looking crankier with every passing minute.

Quietly he closed his book and set it on the armrest. He took his glasses off with one hand and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other, putting on a rather good show of being tired. He was about to rise, bid her good night and go to bed when she spoke.

"Why didn't you invite her to come along with us?" Level, inquisitive, but there was a hint of anger in her eyes.

He sank back into the chair, weighing up her words, realizing immediately who she meant and then seconds later the rest of the question registered, wiping away the slight smirk that had begun to form at the corners of his lips. A quick shake of his head that said he thought it was self-explanatory. "Because she would never have made a very good companion." Not as good as you.

From the look on Rose's face, that wasn't the right answer, so he raised a hand and started ticking things off, his eyes wandering to the ceiling. "High maintenance, silly shoes, no sense of adventure." None of which were precisely true, but they were what she needed to hear. Chancing a look, he caught her expression: anger was rapidly giving way to confusion. "Bad breath?" he offered, willing her to laugh with him.

The intense glare she threw him was comprised more of hurt than anger, and he winced slightly.

"If there was so much wrong with her, then why'd," a second's hesitation as she tried to get the words out. "Why'd you kiss her?" There was genuine confusion there: she really had no idea.

The air had thickened at some point and he could feel it weighing down on him, his mouth going dry. A quick tug at his ear to stall, to search the truth for things he could say out loud. "She knew where they were being kept and she wasn't going to tell us. She was going to sit there and just ramble on and on about the cult and how we'd soon see the light and I had to give her something stronger than that."

"Oh, rubbish - she would have told us eventually," Rose interjected.

"She was one of them," he said, voice rising because she'd crossed her arms and looked intent on ignoring him. "She would have sat there and let them die because she thought it was right. It was the only way for me to save them."

"By kissing her?" her voice exploded as she shifted forward, hands grasping the armrests until she was balanced on the edge, staring at him with wide eyes filled with frustration and shock at what she'd accidentally let out. He slid back further, scared, if he was honest with himself, not at her anger, but at what he thought it must have meant.

There was a barely detectable pause, something that gave away that this wasn't just a shouting match, that there were undercurrents they weren't acknowledging . Then he yelled back because it was the safest thing to do. "Yes. By kissing her. And for the record, she kissed me." Every word punctuated so she understood, and with each new detail the picture became clearer. And she had been the one to kiss him, giving him that look that said what she was about to do and wrapping her fingers around his neck, mouth pressing against his and it had felt good.

"I could have pushed her off, but I needed to keep her trust." True, in hindsight it had kept her trust. Rose didn't need to know that at the time it has been an undeniable impulse. The temptation of flesh and lips and blond hair and blue eyes, spreading like some hot thick liquid and capturing him so he didn't care that she wasn't Rose "You know that that's the only reason we got through that. That we had her on our side, telling us things we never would have guessed."

"So what, now you just go around kissing people so you can take advantage of them?"

"Rose," and he hated himself for being on the verge of asking forgiveness for something he didn't regret doing. Voice turning to steel, he delivered the ultimatum, catching and holding her gaze. "There was no other way, we were running out of time and _she_ kissed _me_."

Those last three words shouldn't have held any meaning: this was about morals and deceit and it didn't matter who kissed whom just that…"But you kissed her back." Her voice was low, wanting to say something else and hoping it would come out if she was quiet enough.

"And?" Despite himself, there was a grin tugging at his lips. She was jealous: this wasn't about what had happened, it was about them. And if she'd just say it out loud then maybe they could get somewhere. "And?" he asked again, cheek slipping into his tone.

Her eyes widened further at his complete irreverence for the situation. She wanted to stand up, go over there and grasp him by the collar, make him see just what this was doing to her. But she couldn't because the consequences of getting that close were…unpredictable, so she settled for one last scathing look before she stalked from the room.

***

Things were getting back to normal. Finally. It didn't escape his notice that Rose couldn't half hold a grudge; considering this time she was angrier at herself than at him, the Doctor made a mental note to never actually upset her on purpose. She hadn't spoken to him the morning after, had refused to look impressed when he'd taken her to the next, exciting destination and hadn't held his hand once.

But the time after that, she'd managed a few half smiles and the time after that had grasped his hand in hers as they half-ran, half-tumbled down the hill, back to the TARDIS. And now, it almost felt like it was supposed to: all sensation and glee and adventure. Lovely. Back to normal and a part of him hoped she never brought it up again.

It was a fantastic thing, jealousy. Time Lords were generally above it but humans, he knew, were particularly susceptible. When he'd kissed the other woman, he hadn't planned on using the event to investigate Rose's feelings for him, he hadn't really planned anything. She'd just decided she wanted to kiss him and by the time he'd realized she was doing so, he hadn't wanted to stop. The complications with Rose were an afterthought.

It was unexpected, when she got quite so cross. Especially when she'd tried to talk to him about it. All at once she'd refused to say what she was thinking but had been determined to show him how upset she was. She'd turned almost predatory, and it was a side of her he wasn't used to. Still, it was exciting, all boiling down to proof that she really did feel _it_.

_It_ being…he stuck his hands deep in his pockets and took a deep breath. Even thinking about it was a bit scary because every time he did his thoughts would dart off in the same direction. He wasn't sure that was safe, wasn't sure he wanted to go there if he was going to be there alone.

Beside him, Rose coughed, and instantly he was grinning, waggling his eyebrows at her, eradicating all trace of his previous thoughts. She smiled back and linked her arm through his, leaning slightly into him so he could gauge how tired she was.

It had been a long day, full of running and yelling and saving a world. But he wanted to see if he couldn't show her something else exciting. Looking at her, he noted that her gait was steady and her eyes were alert. She had enough left in her for one last excursion.

Moving away, he grasped her hand and, with a gentle tug, led her down one of the side streets of the city.

***

She was loving this, really, truly loving it. At first she'd almost felt bad, sitting there, staring at all the strange and beautiful creatures…people: she'd felt like she was being rude. But they'd stared back, looking her up and down in appraisal. Blushing the first few times, she'd eventually realized the situation was one she should have been used to. It was just like any other bar, except instead of just men and women, there were dozens of different species, in who new how many genders, to choose from. While she wasn't exactly interested in picking up anything green or furry, it was a fun way to pass the evening.

Plus, the Doctor had bought her a drink and was, she thought, standing a little too close for it to be blamed simply on companionship. Several times she'd seen a person in the room approach another, some retreated with their tails – in one case, quite literally – between their legs, others were welcomed, and they sat down to drink and talk and laugh.

No one approached her, though at one point she thought perhaps one man – a dark shade of chocolate with long white hair – had wanted to. She caught the look the Doctor threw him and felt a bolt of electricity race up her spine.

At that same moment she felt herself turning slightly away from him, looking away, searching the room because now it was her turn. Over at one of the tables was a group of men, two of them looked human – not that that meant anything – and one looked particularly dishy.

Black hair, slightly messed up, and a five o'clock shadow, tanned skin, broad shoulders - he was perfect. Waiting until he looked up, she smiled shyly, letting her eyes slip from his almost as soon as they'd met and then she turned back to the bar, ignoring the Doctor and ordering another drink. Looking over her shoulder, she caught the man watching her again and smiled, this time longer.

A hand touched her arm and she turned back to meet the Doctor's eyes, innocence injected into her expression and a slight angling of her head making mischief seem almost out of the question. "What are you doing?" he asked in a low voice.

She swallowed, strangely elated that he'd been watching so closely. And then she answered: "I'm meeting people. Isn't that why you brought me here?" Whatever he was going to say next was of no consequence, because she turned away, casting one last bright, unmistakable grin at the other man who was slipping out of his chair as soon as their eyes connected.

He sat down next to her with another grin, shaking her hand and introducing himself. Rose just smiled back and proceeded with the universally necessary small talk. Naturally, it was a bit one-sided since she couldn't actually discuss what she did, but as the minutes ticked over she found herself enjoying his company, laughing at his jokes, leaning towards him.

Behind her, the Doctor simply sipped his drink, regretting having brought her here because this had not been the plan. He could feel something slipping around inside him, something dark and choking and it was making him want to take her back to the TARDIS and lock her away so that this never happened again. It was irrational and unusual and as much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew it was jealousy.

What he didn't know was that that was the plan, that this was payback. He was so busy forcing his hands not to shake and his breath not to stop, that he didn't see Rose slipping her eyes to the mirror in which she could watch him. Didn't see her sly smiles.

And then it went too far. This other man, this stranger, had touched her, had laughed and then sobered and they'd locked eyes and he'd dared to reach out and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He'd said she was beautiful and everyone knew exactly what that translated to: he wanted to kiss her and then take her home and make love to her.

The Doctor tapped her on the shoulder, downing the rest of his drink as he did it and shockingly finding his mouth still dry.

"Time to go," he told her when she looked. "Big day tomorrow," he justified.

Rose just nodded, not putting up a fight and that made something inside him wonder. "I'll meet you outside in a tick, yeah?"

Gritting his teeth, he felt pain shooting through his jaw, a sharp headache spreading at the base of his skull. Say no and take her back to the TARDIS, make her forget this person had ever existed; that anyone else had ever existed.

Time Lords don't get jealous.

"Okay."

He moved off, slipping his hands into his pockets and moving silently across the floor. When he got to the door, he turned and looked back, watched it play out.

Rose had turned back to the other man, had taken one of his hands in hers and smiled sweetly. "I have to go," she told him apologetically. "I had a really great time chatting to you. I'm leaving the city tomorrow, otherwise…" she let her voice trail off. "Thanks for giving me a nice way to remember my last night here." And none of that was really a lie.

His face fell, and by the door, the Doctor felt his ego stir, imagining the things she might have been saying, perhaps telling him she was taken. After all, it was the easiest and simplest way to extricate yourself from just this sort of situation.

The other man looked at Rose, giving her a rueful smile. "It was nice," he said. "Lovely to meet you."

And she hesitated. It was plain that he had nothing else to say; she'd let go of his hands now and was sitting there fiddling, waiting. He coughed, none too subtly and she looked up encouragingly to give him yet another well-aimed smile; all he had to do was ask…she needed this, knew who was watching and needed him to see.

Another timid cough. "I don't suppose there's any chance of a good night kiss?"

She grinned and no one except her knew it was hiding a smirk. Feeling faintly bad for using him, she spoke, teasing but at the same time serious. "Why not? Just one good night kiss." And leaning in she brushed her lips over his, pressing harder as she felt his hand on her thigh and the whole time with her eyes shut, wondering if he was still watching.

She pulled back as he did, looked him in the eye and watched him smile, watched him not regret anything as he stood up and left. She should have felt bad for using him but she couldn't, not when she could feel so much else radiating out from across the room. Turning, she saw him watching and he didn't even try to hide his outrage, just pursed his lips and watched her like a hawk as she slipped from her chair and wove her way through the crowd to stop in front of him.

Another glare, this one terrifying because what lay behind it was so much more than she'd bargained for. Hoping he'd be jealous, getting there to find him so far beyond that. She felt his fingers skim the small of her back, contradicting the anger in his eyes but possessive all the same and, with the slightest pressure, he guided her out.

_I hope you enjoyed that. I suppose, in hindsight, it's quite dark and angsty, but still, perhaps, enjoyable. I can't wait to hear your reactions and as always welcome criticism. There are a further two installments both utterly lacking in plot and both rather hard smut. I'll post them either one or two days apart, depending. Thanks for reading and please, please review!_


	3. Chapter 3

**This is very M rated. **

The journey back to the TARDIS was made in silence. Their steps were quick and she did her best to keep a stride ahead of him, feeling his eyes searing the back of her neck, his hand grazing against her thigh if he got too close.

He followed her through the TARDIS door, slamming it so hard she almost jumped. She managed to conceal her shock by turning to face him head on across the room. He was staring her down, danger lurking beneath the surface, and she regretted asking for this. She knew she'd get a reaction, she knew they had chemistry, knew it would make him jealous to see her having fun with someone other than him, and the chance to push a little harder couldn't be wasted. But she hadn't expected him to get this angry.

Still he was staring, eyes doing their best to catch hers and eventually they did. Immediately she knew he'd calmed down, at least a little. His breathing was steady and he seemed in control. Watching him, she saw everything there, warring in his eyes and realized how much of this was directed at himself. If he asked her, she'd tell the truth.

"What was that?" His voice was low and she knew what that meant; by nature he was an energetic, manic person; the only time he forced himself to be calm was when that energy turned dangerous. Like now.

"Payback." She watched everything slip into place, his eyes flickering around the room and lines etching across his forehead as he thought it out. And then he looked up, shock, then outrage and something unreadable. No progress seemed to have been made because when he spoke again it was still dangerously quiet.

"Why?"

Faltering, she realized that they'd arrived all too quickly at the point where her planning went out the window because, as much as she'd thought about it, there was no reason that she knew how to articulate. "I don't know," she told him, holding his stare even when her voice wavered. "I just wanted to."

"You like seeing me like this?" he spat back and she was terrified she'd truly done this all wrong. It would have been better if they'd just stayed friends, had never broached this, played with the fire.

"Like what?" she stuttered, scared of falling completely silent because he looked like a predator, only her hesitant words keeping him at bay.

His jaw clenched and for a moment his eyes looked through her, plotting out the future, and then he was back. "Jealous," he said.

Maybe there was hope there. He was looking at her differently, she thought, his head was tilted and the anger had subsided, allowing him to calculate, to think. Still predatory, though. She responded, pushing for more. "What's there to be jealous of?"

Stopping, a hand raised to scratch over his chin as he pursed his lips. "You don't play with people like that."

In avoiding her question he'd given an answer; not a certainty, but enough. And now they'd reached a level she could argue with, so she told him, "That's exactly what you did three weeks ago. You used her to get what you wanted." It came out stronger and with more bite than she'd thought herself capable and it registered with him immediately: she was rising to the occasion, taking him on, head to head.

"That was different," he bit out.

"That's not the point."

Another pause and he moved towards her, two steps and he was still several feet away but it made her heart beat faster. "Don't play games with me." That tone was back, low and warning and somehow wildly exciting, a manic gleam in his eyes that warned everything was going to change if she didn't stop him right now.

She bit her tongue and then took one step in his direction, hesitating briefly, then asserting herself. Hands on her hips, she whispered, in her own low and dangerous tone, "You think this is a game?"

"I think you just went and snogged another man to try and make me jealous."

"And it worked," she cut in, daring to smirk a little at the discomfort that crossed his features. "Oh, did it work," she added, voice turning into a self-satisfied drawl she didn't quite feel but managed anyway.

"Of course it worked," he snapped. "And now what are you going to do?"

A small sound escaped her parted lips. There were definitely two ways in which to take this, neither of which she could bring herself to voice. "Knowing you would kiss another woman…" she paused, looking up and seeing him watching her, willing her to give in and chance it. "And it wasn't just any kiss - it was a proper kiss. It shouldn't do anything to me." She bit her lip, considering. "We should just be companions, friends. That's what we've always been."

"We kissed once," he said without thinking, needing to point out that single playful moment in which he'd taken it that little bit too far.

She ignored his interruption, intent on getting through this. "But it does...do something to me. It made me jealous, just like me kissing that guy made you jealous, and we both know why." Stopping, wondering if she'd said too much – or not enough – she refused to break the stare.

The predatory look returned. She realized too late that her silence had given him an opportunity, as he slid into action, feet gliding over the rough, metal surface of the console room floor. She met him half way before she realised she'd moved, hands sliding up his back and into his hair as his grabbed her. One at her waist, one grasping her under the chin and he paused, looking her in the eye. He was offering her a last attempt to escape, to pull back and run, but she wouldn't take it and neither would he.

Lips pressing against hers, hungry and demanding and undoubtedly bruising, his whole body hard against hers as his arms pinned her against him and his lips continued their assault. Moving more roughly, teeth nipping harder than last time, he forced her lips open beneath his, slipping his tongue into her mouth, sweeping over hers and groaning as the taste of her hit him.

But she wasn't like that and, as good as it felt, as harsh and raw and dominating as he was being, it would be better if she responded in kind. Hands in his hair, she gave a sharp tug and the noise that escaped his lips might well have been pain. It achieved what she needed it to and, her lips now free, his head angled back, she leaned into his neck. Quick, nimble hands found his tie and dragged it off, not caring that it tugged at his neck as she pulled, caring only that with it gone she could move to new skin.

Kissing and sucking, biting at the base of his throat as she worked her way down and he didn't try to stop her, just kept his grip firm around her, one hand sliding into her hair. And the combined feeling of that and the reverberations of his neck at each and every fought-for breath was making her want to do everything twice.

Biting down hard one last time prompted a growl and she grinned, moving across his collar bone with a lick that surprised him. Eyes flashing open as she nipped at his shoulder, he watched her push his shirt and jacket from his shoulders easily, wondered when she'd undone the buttons and dismissing the question as she flew across his chest.

Breath and teeth mingling until they were the same thing, her lips closed over a nipple, teeth harsher than he would have imagined, but oh so good. His hand in her hair gripped tighter, pressed her closer as she kissed lower, moving now with deliberate care, mapping him with slow, wet kisses until he got sick of the anticipation and dragged her back up to him, kissing her long and hard and deep. He pushed her backwards, not stopping until she wrenched her lips from his with a sound of surprise as she slammed into the edge of the console.

Giving her absolutely no time to react, he slid his hands down her back, gripping her thighs and hoisting her onto the console, ignoring her squeak of surprise and the discomfort that flashed across her face.

For a second she felt irreverent and silly, then his hands moved again, pressing her hips into his as he moved closer, leaving her no doubt as to the effect she was having on him. Her world was shrinking to the feel of her breasts against his chest, the feel of him pressed hard against her, and she wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him that little bit closer, him echoing her satisfied moan.

His hands found their way between their bodies, his tongue between her lips, and he grabbed her shirt, pulling away long enough to tug it over her head. She smiled up at him during the brief separation, receiving a second's glance of searing need before he dived on her once more.

Hands sliding across her belly, impatient and irrational, his fingers moved across her stomach, traced the faint outline of her ribs, then slipped beneath the fabric of her bra. Simultaneously, their heads fell forward, foreheads touching as her eyes fluttered shut and a strangled moan escaped her lips even as a growl left his.

His fingers were working frantically under the fabric, squeezing and teasing and managing to graze over her nipple in just the right way even as his other hand began pulling ravenously at the clasp. She didn't care. She felt the material fall away in the same instant his fingers managed, finally, to scrape over the pale flesh and grasp her nipple. His lips curled in a smile of triumph against her cheek as he cupped her breasts, thumbs teasing a strangled gasp from her.

Before she could react, his teeth were grazing the skin of her neck, drifting down, and then he pulled away, leaving cold air in his place. She whimpered at that then gasped as his tongue trailed across her sternum, followed by a wet trail of hot kisses moving down between her breasts. She tried to slide her hands into his hair, but he grabbed them, pinning her arms tight against her sides; gave her a sharp, almost painful nip and she gripped the console tighter, knuckles turning white, breath coming too fast, almost in gasps as she opened her eyes. He was watching her, nose pressed against her abdomen, eyes dark and still and oh so predatory and then he stopped.

_The lack of feedback on the last chapter was a bit disconcerting and I'm not sure whether it was because the last chapter was bad or because you were all waiting to read more...erm...I do love reviews...if you were wondering. One part to go, to by posted soon._


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you so very much to those of you who reviewed it if very, very much appreciated.

He froze and reality slowly resolved from pure sensation as he stared up at her, his eyes filling with panic and regret. Having seen what had almost happened, he had stopped cold, frightened by himself and by her and everything between them. Now he wanted to speak, to explain everything to her; but his brain still seemed to have no connection with his body. Even if it had, his mouth had gone instantly dry at the revelation.

Hands gripping gingerly at her waist, he pulled her as gently as he could off the console, settling her on her feet in front of him before letting his hands return to his sides. She was watching him, passion rapidly giving way to confusion as she picked up every emotion that he went through: regret, anger, embarrassment, shock. He knew she wouldn't, _couldn't_, interpret them as good - and so stood frozen, leaning towards her, bare breasts only centimeters from his chest, because that closeness was one thing he couldn't let go of. He still hadn't felt that, her naked chest pressed to his, because he'd been so intent on making her his, on possessing her, that it had overridden everything else.

He caught her gaze and saw confusion give way to humiliation. She swallowed and tried to lean away, to reach for her shirt. Laying a hand on her cheek, he felt her hesitate, swallow hard again, and he hoped it was for different reasons. Leaning in, he let his lips hover over hers, saw her brow crease as confusion returned; witnessed the subtle movement of her lips as she breathed in his scent.

She wanted to kiss him.

He moved over her, lips tracing above hers what he wanted to do, would do, and hers parted, opening with the slightest sound and breathing in a shaky breath. He still wasn't touching her, but she shuddered and he smiled, took the proper time to smile and caught her gaze again as it darted to his. He watched again as she considered him, then returned the smile, slipping forward, lips moving to press against his. He retreated fluidly, avoiding the touch, smiling wider.

Running his nose along the side of hers, his other hand rising to touch her cheek, he breathed slowly out across her lips and watched as she edged closer again, lips searching out his. This time he made contact. Slow and exploratory, he memorized how she felt, the touch of his lips to hers as he moved, then pressed closer still, letting her suck his bottom lip between hers and consequently tugging ever so lightly on her upper one. Deeper still, and the very tip of his tongue touched hers and he felt her knees give way. This was right. This was how it was supposed to be.

He pulled away gently, hands falling from her face: one to his side, the other trailing down her neck, breath-takingly over her breast, finding her hand, fingers entwining with hers perfectly, then coming to rest against her thigh.

Watching her, there was an unmistakable question in his eyes. He wasn't pushing any more, just waiting, patiently. Lifting their linked hands to his lips, he kissed the back of hers and then rested his mouth against their knuckles so that she could feel his breath, steady and hot.

Stepping back, he released her, his hand dropping hers and his eyes never leaving as he moved around her to collect her shirt. Offering it to her, still with their gazes locked, he was happy to see what he suspected was an unconscious shake of her head, her mind obviously too preoccupied with his sudden change of behavior. Transferring the shirt to his left hand, he help up his right, fingers outstretched in clear invitation.

When she placed her hand in his with no sign of hesitation, he couldn't help but grin.

Without knowing exactly what he was doing, without calculating it all out, he found himself leading her backwards, eyes slipping from hers. She kept laughing at him as he unsuccessfully tried to walk them the short distance to his room all the while without losing contact with her lips; rueful smiles her only answer before he swept his lips back over hers. And then they were there. Arms around her still, he pressed one last kiss to her lips, nipping tenderly as he pulled away and opened the door.

Somewhat unsure of just what to do once inside, she waited for him to turn; then marveled at the way his eyes swept up over her, slowly, tracking curves, pausing, smiling, considering. And then his eyes captured hers. He noticed the blush settling on her cheeks and crossed the few feet between them.

A splinter of what he'd been before slipped through and she felt his hand slip impatiently across her stomach, fingers edging beneath the top of her pants and holding there while the other found the button and quickly flicked it open. Then he settled, taking a breath before continuing. Using the added leverage, he pulled her towards him, moving down her neck with hot wet kisses; and this time it was about next time, about taking an account of how she smelled, how she tasted, how she reacted.

Somehow he'd turned this around and it was no long about possessing her, it was about revering her, and both of them could feel it.

Suddenly tumbling backwards, she feared for a brief instant that they'd lost their footing. Then she felt something soft against her back, his hand cradling her head even as the rest of her body fell gently onto the bed and his lips never left.

Climbing onto the mattress, perching on his knees between her bent legs, he kissed lower, tracing the path that had made him pause last time, this time slower, infinitely slower as he got lower and lower and smiled into the skin between her breasts as her hands tightened in his hair and he thought he heard a whimper.

He rocked back and shot her a smile, cheeky and daring, and she rolled her eyes back at him, perfectly prepared to laugh if he was going to be such a – she gasped as his lips closed around a nipple, tongue circling, and _how_ had she not felt him moving? Head pressed back into the sheets, back arching and breath completely forgotten, she didn't even have the presence of mind to moan as his lips left her body, teeth scratching over in a manner so subtle it might not have happened.

His hands fell away and he gave her that same cheeky grin again as he licked his lips. She had a right mind to say something, but then he moved again; evidently deciding (quite fairly) to lather the same treatment on her other breast. And then again, modifying the movement and the glances he threw her until he'd won too many shudders and shivers and moans to count.

And then he moved lower.

A chaste kiss, then another, moving across her stomach while his hands joined in, drawing patterns until she was squirming at the sheer thought of it going on very much longer. Another kiss, this one anything but chaste while his tongue dipped hot and wet into her belly button. She bucked beneath him, her body pleading with him even if she was still busy clenching her eyes shut and biting her lip. Complying, he moved to stand above her at the end of the bed, hands slipping down her sides until they met the denim of her jeans and slipped under, tugging them and her underwear down easily with the button already undone. He undid the laces of her shoes and pulled them off along with her socks, finished taking her jeans off, and once he'd carefully dropped them on the floor, turned back to look at her.

Her eyes opened just in time to see the grin fall away, something sharp and delicious overtaking his features as he looked her up and down; and she was too intrigued to be embarrassed, too amazed that he could look at her like she was some incredible, perfect new world to explore and learn…and even then there was more to his expression. But before she could contemplate that, he was falling back down onto the bed to catch himself on his hands, face now inches from hers again; he still had that look in his eye as he kissed her for the hundredth time that night and it still felt perfect.

He lowered himself further onto her until her arms reflexively came up to wrap around his back and now he really _could_ feel her whole body pressed to his: arms and hands against his back; the hint of nails he'd no doubt find she had a use for later; legs entwining with his (though there was still the problem of his pants); hips angling up to press urgently into his and god, this – _she_ – was beautiful.

Raising himself up on one elbow, he let his other hand trail lazily over her, meaningless ellipses that took him lower and lower until he was so close, but again not quite there.

Onto his game now, she was determined to wait it out, let him hold her there on the edge of anticipation because eventually he'd have to do what she wanted, wouldn't he?

And then his little finger grazed over her hip in some strange perfect motion she could not have predicted and one of her own hands shot down, grabbing his wrist and not giving him time to resist as she angled it perfectly, slipping his hand down to where she needed it so desperately.

Her response was predictable, a gasp for air as he instantly took control and then a slow moan as she completely lost it. Managing somehow to catch sight of his face, pressed again, into her neck, she found him struggling for air, felt it against her skin a second later and everything got so much better when she imagined what this was doing to him.

She wanted more. Stretching down with both hands, eager and doing her absolute best to concentrate on his pants – failing miserably when he caught on to her plan and kissed her again – she began undoing them. Finally managing, she pushed them down his legs as far as she could with her hands and then kicked them down to his ankles with her feet. And god it felt too good when she did that, changing the angle and giving him a new challenge. So preposterously good that when he moved away, she sounded like she was in agony. But he knew better, just grinned and quickly kicked off his remaining clothes and then turned back.

As he leaned down over her, she let her legs wrap tightly around his waist, pulling him closer so she could angle up against him, teasing him on purpose, building friction with movement. And still, with exponentially growing clarity, she could feel him there, hard and ready - and she wanted him inside her right that second.

He wondered if she knew how ridiculously hard he was having to work not to comply.

Laying a hand flat across her stomach, he pressed down, calming her, stilling her body in a manner that felt like some sort of magic. His other hand grasping the back of her shoulder, his body covering hers, his lips at her ear, breathing as steadily as she, in time, smelling and tasting her and feeling the way she responded to even the minutest movement.

He told her, voice strong but rough, "I think I'm in love with you." And in the same breath, he sank down, sliding into her with his voice trailing off into some unnamable sound that was still just as rough around the edges but somehow made what he'd said a constant.

Arching up into him she felt herself already so close. And as he began to move, lips tracing the movements of the air along her neck, slipping out intricately slowly and then back in, pressing against her, making it far too obvious he never wanted to leave, she grabbed onto him, holding her arms around him and letting her nails nip at his skin because she was never going to let go.

Lips moving upwards over her jaw, he kissed her hungrily but slowly, every ounce of brain power concentrated on keeping the pace, on following that irresistible jazz rhythm that was tapping out in his head, on pressing down with just the right angle, of touching her everywhere she needed to be touched and learning how to do it better.

She tore her lips from his, unable to resist any longer, not caring about anything but getting what she needed from him and letting him know, nails moving over his skin, marking and demanding.

And he responded.

Increased the pace, increased the power, the angle, the depth, whatever it took. Letting his lips hover at her ear and letting her name escape in the only way he ever wanted it to be spoken, with respect and love and passion. Telling her so in muttered, disjointed English and then letting his tongue run over her earlobe as he felt her back arch and her hips rock hard against him, her whole body shuddering as it all came crashing down around her in the most devastating of ways. She let a string of words that may or may not have meant something escape her lips as moans and whimpers and he stilled, watching, waiting.

Her eyes fluttering open, she looked at him, saw the edge of need still present in his eyes and could feel him still hard inside her. She grinned with the euphoria of it and leaned up to kiss him hard and owning against the lips, shocking him with it and then falling back onto the mattress beneath him.

He cast his eye over them, breath hitched, and she wondered how it was for him. Meeting her eyes, he muttered. "Beautiful."

Knowing what he deserved, she didn't bother hesitating, didn't bother teasing. She knew perfectly well he'd made enough use of time to cover both of them, and with a deft movement of her hips coupled with her legs wrapping around his waist again, had him on his back in a second. And that made him groan, the sound rising from somewhere deep in his throat and slipping from between barely parted lips as his head fell back and his hands rose to her hips, willing her to move.

Her own hands rested on his stomach as she allowed herself to settle; then finding the desperate look he threw her far too much to resist, began moving against him, using her body to build the friction as she rose and fell, concentrating completely on him because she knew that's what he'd done to her, done for her. She knew he loved her, knew she loved him back and this was proof; how good this felt was proof.

Leaning down she kissed him the way he kept insisting on kissing her, dragged her lips along his throat, nipping and sucking and licking and blowing just as he had and grinning because she knew how good it felt. It was a shock to find herself so captivated by the way his chest vibrated beneath her with each and every noise, to find one of his hands had managed to find a breast and the other was slipping down between them, flicking over sensitized skin and then lower until she was suddenly all too dangerously close to the edge again and she needed to take him with her this time. She leaned up and arched, whispering into his ear exactly that and with one final movement, achieved it.

He chuckled into her hair once a semblance of intelligence had returned to them, kissing her forehead as he shifted around, pulling the sheets out from under them and then draping them half heartedly across her body and his. He watched her as she slid onto her side, amazed at the curves she made and even more amazed when she stared right back at him, grinning like an idiot.

"Should have guessed," she said, voice still husky with sex.

His brow crinkled and he dragged a hand through his hair before responding. "What?"

Grinning, she trailed a finger down his chest, watching it and then looking up to catch his eye, stating matter-of-factly: "You are a bloody good shag."

So that's the end. I hope you all enjoyed it and please do let me know by leaving a review. Thanks!!


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